94
I CALLED HOWELL BACK three hours later.
“What did you find?”
His voice sounded grim. “The photos match a set of prototypical weapons being developed by the Company.”
By the Company? Oh, my God. “Being developed for you by Bahjat Zaid.”
God or nature or biological accident gives us these awesome brains and this is what we do with them. We think of better ways to kill. Ways that make murder as easy as taking a breath.
These guns could change history. Kill a CEO, kill a president, kill a pope, kill a good guy, kill a bad guy, with total confidence that the bullet will find its mark.
Howell said, “Sam, do you know what the goal is? Of this man having these guns? Why’s he doing this?”
“Profit, I’m sure—he must be selling the guns to someone who has an agenda. He has the DNA of fifty people. One of my contacts, Piet, said there were fifty packages Edward was smuggling. Fifty. Fifty means something, but the fifty people aren’t famous.”
“Would you recognize them if you saw them again?”
“Maybe. I don’t know.” My head pounded.
The guns were a ticket back to having my life back. If the Company forgave me my sins, then I had a chance of getting back and keeping my son without looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life.
“New York,” I said. “He’s shipping the guns to New York.” Piet had told me that.
“Why? To who?”
Silence. Then: “You listen to me. If you’re setting me up for another fall, then you will seriously regret it.”
“I have bigger problems than you, Howell. I know you’re just doing a thankless job. I’m sorry I’m your headache. I really am.”
“Sam—”
“When I find out more I’ll call you.”
“You are still a Company officer.”
“I am not.”
“You are—and I am ordering you to come in.”
I hung up. I went downstairs and found Kenneth, the manager of Adrenaline. He came back up to the office with me. He sucked in his breath when he saw Yasmin’s body.
“I didn’t kill her,” I said.
“All right,” Kenneth said.
I explained what had happened, without telling him about the specific nature of the weapons. Best to keep that to myself. When I told him Mila had been captured, he said, “How can I help?”
“Kenneth, who runs this? Who do you work for?”
“I work for Mila.”
“Who does Mila work for? This technology, this level of resources—you folks have serious clout.”
Kenneth said, “Mila should have told you.”
“Mila may be dead.”
He sat. “She works for the Round Table.”
“Round Table? Like King Arthur’s Round Table?”
“Mila likes to pretend they date back to a distant time, but it’s simply a name. They’re a group of powerful and wealthy people who have joined forces over many years, and I don’t know more than that. I do know I can make phone calls and certain resources are arranged for Mila, or for whoever is working for her.”
“Okay, I am working for King Arthur.” I nearly laughed. With all the insanity of the day, I felt on edge.
“No, sir.” Kenneth seemed alarmed that I believed this.
“And the Round Table owns the bars? Adrenaline, De Rode Prins in Amsterdam?”
He nodded. “Under a front company.”
“Why do you work for them? What’s your background?”
He studied me for a moment. Then he said, very formally, “Ten years ago I was accused of murdering a former girlfriend. I was innocent, but I was convicted and I went to prison. Mila’s employers helped me prove my innocence and they found the real killer. I owe them. And I have an interest in justice now I did not have before.”
“Is that Mila’s background, too? Falsely accused and saved by the Round Table?” Just like me.
“I cannot say because I do not know. Does it matter, right now? We must help Mila.”
“All right. I need transport to the United States. For me and for a prisoner inside that room. I can’t cart her through first class in chains. Can you arrange that?”
“Yes. I can put you on a private plane.” Kenneth went to a phone and picked it up to make a call. He hesitated. “Do you think Mila’s dead?”
“I hope not. I hope I’m going to get her. Because I think whoever has her wants to know about this Round Table.”
“They won’t break her.” He said this with certainty.
Mila was Edward’s bonus. He knew that he and his employers were facing a formidable enemy in whoever Mila and I worked for. It was the only reason she’d been kept alive. Edward was, if anything, a constant opportunist.
I stared down at Lucy. “We’re going to go get on a plane shortly. If you try and break away from me, or create a scene, I’ll shoot you. Do you understand me, sweetheart?”
“Yes, monkey.” Lucy held up her wrists. “I understand you.”